Emily's Choice
by Torchwhovian
Summary: Emily has almost everything she wants. Her bakery is doing well and she's married to a man she loves with all her heart. She has never thought of cheating on her husband, never thought for one moment that anyone else would catch her eye. So who was this man that worked for Fish Mooney and what made him so special? And will this choice haunt her? Butch/OC
1. Chapter 1

The bell over the door of the bakery jingled as a customer entered the shop, causing the brunette behind the counter to look up from the tray of cupcakes she was decorating. Putting down the piping bag, Emily smiled warmly and wiped her hands on her apron before greeting her customer. "Welcome to Sweet Musings. What can I get for you?"

The little girl standing with her mother examined the case filled with cookies, pies, and cupcakes as though she was making a very important decision. After several minutes, she decided on a chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting. The little girl smiled a gap toothed smile at Emily as she accepted the cupcake, taking a large bite as soon as it was in her hands. Her mother handed Emily the five-dollar bill to pay for the cupcake. "How's your husband?"

"He's doing better, I guess." Emily gave her friend the change back from her purchase. "He has his bad days but the doctor's say he could wake up any day now."

"I hope he does." Her friend, Serena, put one hand on Emily's. "You've been through so much."

Emily smiled at Serena and her daughter, Anne, before they bid each other good bye. It was almost time to close up the shop and head over to the hospital so she started to clean up and pack up the left overs. She took them to the homeless shelter every day and today would be no different, no matter what the occasion. The hospital was a short walk from the shelter so she made it in record time. Opening the too familiar door to her husband's room, she was welcomed by the steady beeping of machines and hissing of the respirator that kept her husband alive. Pulling off her coat and putting it on the back of the chair reserved for visitors, Emily pressed a kiss to her husband's forehead. "We did wonderful business today, sweetheart. Best day yet, actually."

She knew it was silly but she was half expecting a response from his still form. Emily continued speaking to her husband like this, talking about her day until the doctor came in. "Mrs. Callahan, may I have a word?"

"Of course." Emily fixed the blanket on her husband as the doctor spoke.

"I'll get right to the point, Mrs. Callahan. I'm afraid your husband's treatment is becoming quite expensive and I'm not sure how much longer we can continue to provide it considering your current situation. Have you put anymore thought towards….."

"Pulling him off the life support?" She finished his sentence for him. "I know I've fallen behind on the bills but he needs this care. He's not dead."

"If I were to turn off the respirator, he wouldn't be able to breathe." Dr. Smythe was sympathetic but he had other patients to care for as well. "Please allow him to move on."

Emily swallowed hard, trying to get the lump in her throat to go away. "I'll find a way to catch up on the bills. Thanks for your time."

Dr. Smythe left, having nothing left to tell her and knowing that she was too stubborn to let her husband pass on. He couldn't blame the poor girl, the car accident happened on the way to the airport after their wedding. She spent her honeymoon praying that her husband wouldn't die and while he was brain dead, she refused to let go. Her loyalty and optimism would be her undoing, as he knew she had put up her bakery as collateral to a loan so she could pay the hospital bills. But now the money was gone and all she had was an insane interest rate and a high chance of losing her bakery.

Emily had been a family friend for a long while and Dr. Smythe felt he owed it to her to do what he could for her. He fudged some paperwork to help put off the bills for a couple more weeks but after that, it was out of his hands. Emily would have to figure something out on her own.

-0-

The next morning was Sunday and Emily was always closed on Sundays. She wouldn't visit her husband until later in the afternoon, so she spent the morning looking for another job. After several hours of circling ads in the newspaper, she decided to follow up on one. It was for a bartender at Fish Mooney's nightclub and luckily, Emily had been a bartender while she was in college. The ad said to apply in person so she took a shower and cleaned up, dressing herself in a nice pair of black slacks and a pressed white button up. Rolling the sleeves up to her elbows, she straightened her hair and added a little eyeliner and mascara to her eyes before deciding she looked presentable enough for an inquiry. Her heels were worn and one of the heels were broken so she settled on black flats before heading out the door.

The nightclub wasn't open to the general public this early but she found the door was open anyway, probably for potential employees. Or maybe Fish Mooney wasn't afraid that she'd be robbed. From Emily had heard, Fish was pretty tough.

"Excuse me?" Emily stopped a waiter, who looked irritated that she spoke to him. "I'm here to see Ms. Mooney about the bartending position."

"I'll let her know you're here." The waiter looked her up and down then scoffed silently to himself. "But I wouldn't get too comfortable here."

Emily ignored his last comment and moved to stand by the bar while she waited for him to come back or for Fish to show up. She didn't have long to wait.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" Fish moved confidently and quickly for a woman in four inch heels. A large man in a suit and dark hair followed her.

"I, um, saw your ad in the paper and wanted to apply for the positon." Emily stuck her hand out towards Fish. "I'm Emily Callahan."

Fish glanced at Emily's hand then met her gaze once more before ignoring her hand completely. "Can you tend bar?"

"I used to in college."

Fish examined the girl in front of her carefully, scrutinizing every detail. Dark hair, bright blue eyes and cream colored skin with what seemed to be a very well taken care of body. Long legs and decent sized breasts meant this girl had more potential as something other than a bartender. "Are you sure that you want to be a bartender? With your looks, you'd do much better as one of my girls."

"Oh, no." Emily replied quickly, her cheeks flushing. "I-I'd much rather be a bartender. Besides, I'm married."

"Pity." Fish said, then shrugged. Talking to the man behind her, she said, "I'll give you a chance but if you let me down, I'll be very disappointed. And I don't like to be disappointed."

"Yes ma'am." Emily officially thought she was in over her head.

"Butch, get her a uniform and let her get familiar with the bar."

"Sure thing, Fish." The man, Butch, replied.

Fish apparently decided she had better things to do and walked off, presumably to resume whatever she was doing before Emily interrupted. The uniform was a red jacket with a crisp white shirt underneath and a black skirt. Butch was all business and not one for conversation but he sat at the bar with her while she practiced. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Gilzean?"

"Cross White. 20 year." Butch replied.

It took a moment to find the bottle and Emily was shaking a little as she poured the drink.

"You need to relax." Butch took the glass and raised it to his lips. Taking a drink, he swallowed before continuing. "Stay in line and do what Fish says and you won't have any problems."

"Thanks." Emily capped the bottle. "Have you worked for her long?"

"For a while, yeah." He finished his drink and she poured him another. "Haven't I seen you around before?"

"I own a bakery a few blocks down. Maybe you've seen me there before?"

"Butch, I need you do take care of something for me." Fish approached them, acknowledging Emily with only a smile.

"Sure." Butch downed the rest of his drink and slid the glass back to Emily. "See ya around, Em."

"See ya." Emily cleared the bar and prepared herself for a busy night.

-0-

By the time the nightclub closed and was cleaned up, it was well past two in the morning when Emily finally collapsed into bed. She'd have to be up in a few hours to start her day at the bakery but she'd settle for what little sleep she could get. The patrons of Fish's nightclub were great tippers; she had well over two hundred dollars in her pocket at the end of the night. If she kept it up, she'd be able to catch up on her husband's bills sooner rather than later. She felt bad that she couldn't visit her husband that day but she'd go as soon as she was able. But right now, she was going to take a nap.

 **A/N: Well, it's a slow start but I'm going to start at the beginning of season one and work my way through the show. This will be a Butch/OC story because I love the big lug.** **Please leave a review, guys! They're always appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

" _Is anybody sitting here?" The blonde stared down at Emily with a smile as her head snapped up, eyes wide and startled. Clearly she had been deeply engrossed in her textbook. "I'm sorry. I was just wanting to know if this seat is taken?"_

" _No." Emily answered, quickly moving her books out of his way so he could sit across from her. Once the seat was cleared, he sat down with his own pile of books. Awkward smiles passed between them and then she went back to her own studying. The library was quiet, with the sounds of turning pages in the background, when he spoke again._

" _I'm Andrew." He whispered an introduction. "Andrew Callahan."_

" _Emily Arkham."_

 _His eyebrows raised slightly. "As in—"_

" _The asylum. Yes." Emily replied, quickly. Everyone asked the same question when they heard her last name, especially in Gotham. She had hoped going to college would limit the questions, even if it was Gotham University. "I've got a lot of studying to do, so if you don't mind…"_

" _Yeah. Sorry." Andrew turned back to his books, his pencil eraser tapping against the table top. Emily's hopes that he'd leave her alone were dashed when he said, "Do you want to go out with me?"_

" _No."_

 _He was unfazed. "Do I get a reason why not?"_

" _No."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Because the last time I checked, 'no' was a complete sentence."_

 _Andrew laughed loudly, his eyes sparkling. "I like you, Emily Arkham."_

" _How wonderful." Emily sighed exasperatedly and crossed her arms over her books, making eye contact with Andrew. "Look, I've got a pastry final coming up and I've got several recipes to perfect before it so I don't have time for dating, even if I was interested in you."_

" _Pastries? No interest in psychology, then?"_

" _The profession seems a bit cursed for my family." She closed her books and started to shove them into her backpack. "Look into the Arkham family history and you'll understand what I mean."_

 _Andrew watched her pack up. "So what do I have to do to get a yes from you?"_

" _Give up. It's not going to happen." She slung her pack over her shoulder and left Andrew alone at the table._

-0-

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Emily stared at the waiter currently placing a drink order.

"A bottle of champagne and two glasses."

She quickly placed two glasses and the bottle on the waiter's expectant tray and then mentally chastised herself for her slip up. She couldn't afford to lose this job, not if she wanted to keep Andrew on the life support machines he so desperately needed. Fish's umbrella boy approached her with a concerned look on her face.

"Is everything all right, Mrs. Callahan? You seem distracted."

"You can call me Emily." She said. "I'm fine. Just lost in thought, Mr. Cobblepot."

"Please, call me Oswald."

"It's a very unusual name, isn't it?" Emily cocked her head to one side slightly before starting to mix another drink. "Mother used to say that unique names belong to unique individuals."

"Your mother sounds like a wise woman." Oswald chuckled. "Does she live in Gotham?"

"No, I'm afraid she died when I was younger."

"Oh, I am truly sorry." He put one hand over hers sympathetically. "The loss of one's mother is a true tragedy."

"Did you lose your mother as well?"

"No, she's alive and well."

Emily handed off the freshly mixed drink to the waiter and wiped away a small spill from the bar top. "If she enjoys sweets, you should bring her by my bakery."

"Of course. I'm sure she would enjoy that."

Fish signaled for Oswald, cutting their conversation short. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Emily. I hope to do so again soon."

"Me too." Emily smiled at him as he walked away.

Emily loved working at Fish's club. The customers, the entertainment (which varied night to night), and the environment took her mind off the pile of unpaid bills sitting on her kitchen table and her husband. Even the rest of the staff at the club were polite and kind to her, something she hadn't expected being the only female working as a server and not one of Fish's 'girls'. She glanced at her watch and decided to take her break. The heels she wore were cute but uncomfortable after being on her feet for hours at a time.

Once the bar was covered, she grabbed her jacket before heading outside behind the club. Taking a deep breath of crisp night air, she stared up at the stars, wishing that Andrew were here to enjoy them with her. The echo of gunshots in the too close distance made her jump and the scream that followed made her blood run cold. With little thought to her safety or the rest of her break, Emily started running as fast as her shoes allowed, finding the source of the scream a few alleys over. A boy was on his knees, sobbing next to two figures. Emily was panting for breath as she approached them, praying that the boy hadn't seen the two others get shot. Once she was close enough, she realized they were Thomas and Martha Wayne. Like most of the other citizens of Gotham, she had seen them enough in the newspapers.

"Are you okay?" She asked the boy, presumably Bruce Wayne, Thomas and Martha's only son.

"He—he just s-shot them." He stammered, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Emily retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and called the police and an ambulance, even though it was clear the adults were dead. Once the call was made, she tried to help Bruce stand. "I need to get you somewhere safe."

"I can't leave them." Bruce stared down at his parents.

"Bruce, I'm afraid you're going to go into shock." Emily said gently. "Let me call somebody to come get you and I'll stay with your parents. I'll be sure they're taken care of and treated with respect."

"H-how do you know my n—name?"

"I've seen your pictures in the newspaper. I'm Emily." She smiled at him when he finally looked at her. "Do you have somebody I can call?"

"Alfred is out of town." Bruce started to shake but he didn't seem to notice. Emily shrugged out of her coat and put it around his shoulders. "But perhaps we could leave a message with his hotel."

"Sure. Do you know it?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "My parents must have it at home."

"I can take you to get it, if you want me to."

"How do I know I can trust you?" He was cautious and rightly so.

"My name is Emily Callahan. I have a bakery a few blocks down and an apartment above it." She straightened her jacket around his shoulders. "There's a stun gun in the right pocket of my jacket." Emily waited for him to locate it with a trembling hand. "You can hold onto it and if you feel threatened, you can use it."

He seemed to consider this as the police cars approached, followed by the ambulance. His parents had taught him to see the best in others, that if you helped them, then they would help you. However, he felt that theory had just been shot down. Bruce grimaced at the unintended pun before looking up at Emily and nodding once. She nodded back with a comforting smile as an officer came up to them.

"Did you see what happened?" He asked Emily.

"No, I work at Fish Mooney's nightclub and was on my break when I heard the gunshots." Emily lowered her voice slightly. "This poor boy has been through so much. Is there any way we can postpone his statement until morning?"

"We really need a description now. It's the best chance of catchin' the guy who did this." The officer said in a business like tone. "Who are you, anyway?"

"She's my aunt." Bruce said quickly. "I—I'd like to go home, if I can."

"Well—"The officer was prepared to repeat what he told Emily when she spoke up again.

"I can give you my address, my bakery's address, and my phone number so your detectives can reach me anytime. Please let me take my nephew home." Emily wasn't one to use her looks to get what she wanted but there were exceptions. Batting her eyes, she said, "I'd really appreciate it."

By a miracle, the officer let them go once Emily scribbled all of her information on a scrap of paper and she led Bruce back to Mooney's club. Pausing by the service entrance, she told Bruce, "I've got to talk to Ms. Mooney, so just stick close to me, okay?"

"Okay." Exhaustion was settling on Bruce's face but he followed her into the club.

Emily scanned the club for a familiar face and found Butch standing at the bar, a drink in his hand. If she had to guess, it was his first of the night. He never drank excessively when the bar was open. "Mr. Gilzean?"

He turned and downed the rest of his drink. "What's up, Em?"

"I've had a….. family emergency come up." Emily glanced at Bruce. "Would it be possible to leave early?"

Butch looked from Bruce to Emily but shrugged and then nodded. "But you have to explain it to Fish in the morning."

"Absolutely. Thank you, Mr. Gilzean." Emily let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"And you gotta bring me some more of those crème puffs."

"Of course." She smiled at him and quickly clocked out. Bruce had been quiet during their exchange and Emily was thankful. Once they were out of the club and in a taxi, she said, "Why did you say I was your aunt?"

"The officer wouldn't have let you take me home if you weren't family." Bruce said, staring out of the window. "I'd have been taken to the station and left there until Alfred came to get me. I'd rather wait at home."

The rest of the ride was silent and Emily was stunned by the opulent manor that he lived in as they pulled up. She paid the driver and followed Bruce inside, trying not to stare at her surroundings. Bruce disappeared into a study and dug through a large desk, ruffling through papers to find Alfred's hotel. Finally, he held up a piece of paper. "I've found it."

"I'll call and explain the situation to him." Emily was already dialing the number. "Why don't you go change your clothes?"

Bruce nodded, probably not wanting to think about the blood on his pants and went to do as she said. The hotel said that Alfred was out at the moment but that she could leave a message. Saying only that there was an emergency and to call her as soon as possible, Emily kept her message simple then hung up. By the time she had made the call, Bruce had come back downstairs dressed in his pajamas.

"What did he say?"

"He was out. I left a message." Emily assured him. They stared at one another awkwardly for a moment. "Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat."

"No, thank you." Bruce said. "I'm sorry to pull you away from your job."

"It's all right." Emily assured him quickly. "I've got my own business too, so it's not a big deal to lose a few hours."

"What's your business?"

"I have a bakery." Her phone rang abruptly and she jumped but flipped it open, raising it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Emily Callahan?" A British voice asked, briskly.

"Yes, is this Mr. Pennyworth?"

"What's going on?"

Explaining the situation quickly, Emily heard a sharp intake of breath when she told Alfred of the Wayne's murder. He swore and then apologized to her for swearing. "Is Master Bruce all right?"

"He's not hurt but he's a bit shaken, understandably." Glancing at Bruce, she said, "Would you like to speak with him?"

"If I may, please."

Emily handed Bruce the phone and stepped out of the study to give him some privacy. Wayne Manor was beautiful, full of expensive and historical pieces. She wished she had the time to look at all the pieces properly then mentally chastised herself for such a selfish thought.

"Alfred is catching the first flight out." Bruce was handing her the cell phone a few minutes later. "He asked that you stay with me until he arrives."

"Of course." She couldn't imagine leaving him alone on such a horrible night.

"You're welcome to use a guest bedroom. We've got plenty." He led her upstairs and showed her to a spare room. Pointing down the hall, he said, "My room is two doors down."

"Okay. Do you need anything before you go to sleep?"

He seemed to consider her offer but shook his head. "Good night, Emily."

"Good night, Bruce."

Emily waited until Bruce went into his own bedroom before going into the spare room. Slipping off her work jacket and shoes, she got into bed, almost groaning at how soft the mattress was. She was mostly asleep when her phone rang again.

"Hey, Em."

"Mr. Gilzean." Sitting up in bed, she cleared her throat. "What can I do for you?"

"Just checkin' up on you." Butch replied. "Everything okay?"

"I think it will be."

"Good. Fish said take a day or two off. No worries about your job, either."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Gilzean. I really appreciate it."

"No problem." Butch said easily. "One more thing, Em."

"Yes?"

"Call me Butch."

 **A/N: So that's chapter two. A huge thanks to my reviewers and followers. Please feel free to leave a review if you'd like. They're always a wonderful surprise when I get the emails. Anyhow, please enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3

Emily had always been an early riser, and even though she was sleeping at Wayne Manor that hadn't changed. She was up with the sun and found her way to the kitchen to make something for Bruce to eat when he woke up. Since she didn't know when he usually woke up, she decided to make doughnuts because it didn't matter if they were warm or cold when he ate them. A quick survey of the pantry revealed everything she needed and in no time she had her first batch of doughnuts frying. Emily had a dozen doughnuts made by the time Alfred arrived and found her in the kitchen.

"Alfred, I presume?"

"Yes. Mrs. Callahan, thank you for staying with Master Bruce. Where is he?"

"I think he's still asleep. I'll clean up and then I'll go."

"Don't worry about the mess. I can clean it up. We really shouldn't keep you from your own business."

Emily knew he was dismissing her as politely as possible so she took her leave. Even though Wayne Manor was fairly far from the city, it didn't take long for Emily to find her way back home. There was blood on her skirt from the murders the night before so she put it in the sink to soak to keep the stain from setting. She changed into a pair of jeans and a purple v neck, tying her hair back away from her face so she could get to work in her bakery as soon as she got downstairs. Since she had spent the night at the mansion, she was a little behind in her prep work. Regardless, she had to get started and being behind meant she'd open a few hours later. Once she had that morning's pastries made and waiting in the display case and several dozen cupcakes baking in the oven, she started on Butch's crème puffs. She definitely owed him for covering for her with Fish. Emily knew she'd have to talk to Fish today too, and explain what had happened.

Knuckles rapping against her front door startled her and Emily practically ran out of the kitchen to see who it was. Oswald was waving with a smile next to an older woman. Emily sighed in relief and smiled back as she moved to unlock and open the door. "Oswald, you scared me."

"My apologies. That wasn't my intention." Oswald seemed sincere. "I brought my mother by for some of your pastries."

"Well, I'm not officially open yet but you are more than welcome to come in." Emily moved out of the way so the pair could enter, relocking the door behind them. "Would you like some coffee?" 

"No, thank you." Oswald replied, pulling a chair out for his mother so she could sit. "Perhaps some tea, if you have it?"

"Oswald, don't be rude." His mother scolded, swatting at him with a lace handkerchief.

"It's not a problem, Mrs. Cobblepot."

"Kabelput." She corrected.

"Mother." Oswald's voice held a hint of irritation as he sat down.

"I've got some tea." Emily changed the subject quickly, going to her stock room and picking up the only box of tea she had. She filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to boil then went back to her guests. "What can I interest you in this morning?"

"What do you recommend?" Oswald's earlier irritation at his mother had disappeared.

"I've got some scones and some fresh chocolate croissants."

"Oh, Oswald." Mrs. Kabelput cooed. "Chocolate."

"Two croissants, please." Oswald smiled at his mother.

Emily retrieved the pastries and placed them on the table then went to check on the tea. The water was boiling and Emily retrieved the china tea set that was given to her as a wedding present but she had never used before now. She put the water in the tea pot and placed two cups and saucers on a tea tray, carrying everything to the table.

"Would you join us?" Oswald gestured to the chair across from him.

"I've really got quite a bit to do still." Emily protested.

"Please." He insisted, rising to pull her chair out for her. When she hesitated, he said, "We never get a moment's peace at the nightclub."

"Let me check on my oven and then I'll join you." She promised, heading back to her kitchen and pulling the cupcakes out of the oven and setting them aside to cool. Once a new batch was in the oven, she went back to her guests.

"You are married?" Mrs. Kabelput inquired bluntly, gesturing to Emily's wedding ring.

"Yes. I am."

"Where is your husband?"

"Mother!" Oswald snapped.

"It's fine, Oswald." Emily assured him. "My husband and I were in an accident on the way to our honeymoon. He's been in a coma for the last two years."

"Oh, you poor dear." Mrs. Kabelput put a kind hand on Emily's forearm. "I am very sorry."

"Thank you." Emily glanced at her clock. "I've really got to finish my prep for today. Please excuse me."

"Of course, Emily." Oswald nodded slightly. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yep. I've got a shift."

Emily unlocked the door so the Cobblepots could leave when they wanted to and went back to decorate the cupcakes that had cooled. A little while later, the bell above the door jingled, indicating a new customer. Emily placed the last rack of cupcakes in her display case and started to tend to the customers as they arrived. Over the last week or so, business had picked up, giving her extra money to put toward the overdue bills piling up. When the rush ended two hours later, Emily finally got the chance to clear the Cobblepots' table. Not being sure when they had left, she made a mental note to apologize for her abruptness when she saw Oswald later that night. What she hadn't expected was a crisp fifty-dollar bill sitting on the table. She tucked the money into her pocket and went on with her day.

Closing came too early and Emily delivered the last of the desserts to the homeless shelter, making sure to take the box with Butch's crème puffs with her when she closed up. Her work skirt was still soaking when she got home, so she wrung it out and tossed it in the wash, opting to wear a pleated black skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Hopefully Fish wouldn't mind. She hadn't realized that her work shirt had blood on it as well and she cursed silently to herself. Digging in the back of her closet, she found a tight fitting black top with lace on the sides and thick straps. She had hesitated to wear it because it pushed her breasts up and was too tight for her tastes. It had been part of a Halloween costume in college. She curled her hair and let it fall in soft waves. Feeling adventurous, she decided to go with a sultry smoky eye makeup with black eyeliner. She finished off the look with bright red lipstick and paused to examine her appearance in her mirror before she left and decided that despite the too tight top, she looked good.

Her long black pea coat (a spur of the moment purchase from years ago), covered her outfit so it would keep her from being too embarrassed should anyone on the street stare at her. The box with Butch's crème puffs in her hands, she went to the nightclub and wasn't surprised to find the pre opening bustle going on around her. That night's entertainment was rehearsing for Fish so Emily slipped behind the bar to check inventory before she dropped off Butch's box. Once she was satisfied with the alcohol supply, she went to the break room to store her coat, almost colliding with one of the wait staff as she exited.

Fish had finished with the entertainment and was sitting at the bar with Butch, discussing something quietly. Emily approached carefully, knowing that she wasn't meant to hear anything they said. "Ms. Mooney?"

"Yes?" Fish waited for an explanation to the interruption.

"I just wanted to explain about leaving last night…"

"I believe Butch gave you my message about taking the time off you needed?" Fish raised an eyebrow. "Family is important, dear."

"I know but it's been taken care of." Emily said. "I can work my shift tonight. I need to, actually."

Fish sighed knowingly. "I understand. What happened to your uniform?"

Emily looked down at her outfit. "Oh, um. It kind of got blood on it. I'll wear it tomorrow, I promise—"

"No. I like this." Her boss smirked at her. "It gives you more sex appeal. What do you think, Butch?"

"She looks good, boss." Butch said dutifully, but winked at Emily, causing her face to flush scarlet.

"We're opening soon. Get ready." Fish got off her barstool and went to get ready for opening.

"I brought your desserts today, Butch." Emily gestured toward the back room. "They're in the box on the table."

"Thanks, Em." Butch smiled at her. "You should dress like this more often."

"It's not really my style." She replied, her cheeks burning again. She wiped the bar down to distract herself from Butch's gaze. She was grateful when the club opened and Butch went to do whatever it was that he did but she caught him glancing at her throughout the night.

"Miss Arkham?" A kind old voice asked.

Emily turned to the owner of the voice and froze. It was Carmine Falcone, mob boss of half of Gotham. "It's Mrs. Callahan, actually."

"My apologies." Falcone smiled. "I was hoping we could discuss some business."

"Um, I'm working at the moment. Maybe we could arrange a time to meet?"

"Of course." He replied. "Perhaps you could join me for dinner tomorrow?"

"I have to work tomorrow." Emily said apologetically.

"I'm sure we can get the shift covered." Falcone said. "I'll send a car for you tomorrow."

He turned to leave, pausing to say one more thing to her. "Be proud of your family's heritage, Miss Arkham. It is part of who you are."

Then he left the club with a simple nod to Fish, who nodded back then regarded Emily with an inquisitive glare. Emily didn't have time to notice once the drink orders started arriving, keeping her busy until closing. She didn't even have time to take her break but she did exceptionally well as far as tips went. Maybe the outfit did have something to do with it. Shoving her tips into her purse, Emily cleaned up the bar, mopping up a small spill on the floor before going to get her coat. Oswald had told her the night was warm so she draped her coat over her arm and headed out of the club.

"Heading home?" Butch asked as she passed where he was waiting outside with two of Fish's goons.

"Yeah. I'll be glad to change out of these heels." She groaned softly as she stretched her back. "What about you?"

"Nah, we've got some stuff to finish up here." A group of noisy men stumbled out of the bar a few doors down. "You sure you're good to walk home?"

"I'm only a few blocks away." Emily regarded the obnoxious group carefully.

"C'mon. I'll walk with you." He told one of Fish's men to keep an eye on things. "Can't afford to get another bartender around here."

"You really don't have to." She insisted. "I don't want you to get in trouble with Ms. Mooney."

"I think I can handle myself." Butch assured her and the two started walking. "What made you start bartending? Your food's pretty good so why work for Fish?"

"Well, I need the extra cash for my husband's medical bills. He's in a coma." She explained. "I don't want them to turn off the life support."

"How'd he end up in a coma?"

"We were on our way to catch the plane for our honeymoon and we were in a car accident. I had a broken arm and dislocated him but Andrew got hit harder than I did and ended up in the coma." Emily felt a lump growing in her throat and swallowed hard in an attempt to clear it. Luckily they had arrived at her apartment. "Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem."

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I hope everybody had a good Thanksgiving. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Andrew had sent roses to Emily's dorm every day for a week before she was able to track him down. That day's delivery in hand, she stomped over to his dorm and pounded on the door. He answered with a wide grin. "Well, well, well, Miss Arkham. What brings you here?"_

" _Stop sending me flowers. I'm not interested." Emily shoved the roses into his chest and then turned to storm off. Andrew grabbed her arm, keeping her on his doorstep. "Let me go."_

" _Listen, I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the Arkham family history." He released her arm._

" _Why?"_

" _It's for my history paper. We need to write about the prominent families of Gotham and how they affected the city. Until now I didn't know there was a living Arkham family member." He pouted. "C'mon, Arkham. You can tell me all about the asylum."_

 _Emily regarded his request, mentally weighing her choice before rolling her eyes and sighing exasperatedly. "Fine."_

 _That was how she found herself walking along her favorite path in the park, hands in her coat pockets while Andrew rapid fired questions at her. This went on for several hours until he finally reached his final question._

" _There's a legend that the asylum itself drives the occupants crazy." Andrew said. "Do you think it's true?"_

" _Have you ever been inside the asylum?" Emily asked, brushing her hair out of her face._

" _It's been closed to the public for years."_

" _I'm not the general public." She had a mischievous grin that quickly spread to Andrew's face. "Do you have a car?"_

 _Andrew nodded and ten minutes later, the two of them were crammed in his cluttered car, heat on full blast to combat the chill from the rain that had started to fall on the way to the car. "So how exactly are we going to get in?"_

" _Well, there's always the front door." Emily replied, pulling on the chain around her neck, revealing a silver, unassuming key._

" _You have a key?" He chuckled._

 _The asylum had been closed for decades and the resulting atmosphere inside was stale dust with cobwebs decorating the corridors. Emily showed Andrew to the patient cells and then to the office of the director, who was once Amadeus Arkham. "Amadeus kept a journal but no one has found it since he died. We only know he kept one because there have been previous directors of the asylum who claimed to be reincarnated as him. A journal was mentioned several times."_

" _Wait a minute." Andrew had been shining his flashlight on the desk, reading an old newspaper that had been left there. "People think they were….possessed by him?"  
_

" _Not possessed. Reincarnated." Emily corrected. She took a seat in the swiveling chair behind the desk. "There's a difference."_

" _Do you think there's any truth to it?"_

 _Wind blew through the halls, sounding vaguely like tormented screams, sending a chill down Emily's spine. "I think that we should probably head out soon. There's all sorts of family legends and history and none of it is very pretty."_

 _Andrew nodded and started to follow his guide down the corridors. "How do you know your way around so well?"_

" _My parents were trying to get the asylum cleaned up and prepared to open when I was little. They weren't the first ones to try but they were the last. I spent a lot of time here, wandering while they worked. There's a lot of secret passages and rooms, so the task was harder than they anticipated."_

" _Why wasn't the asylum reopened?"_

 _Emily swallowed hard. "Because my father said he was Amadeus Arkham and killed my mother in an experiment."_

-0-

"Thank you for joining me tonight, Miss Arkham." Carmine Falcone rose as she approached the table. The restaurant he had chosen was a very expensive one and Emily was glad she had opted for more formal attire. A waiter held her chair out for her and she sat down. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mr. Falcone." Emily waited for the server to pour some wine into her glass then took a sip.

"You know why I've brought you here." It wasn't a question.

"I don't think you have any interest in my bakery so I'm assuming it has to do with the asylum?"

"It has more to do with the land around it." Falcone replied. "I'd like to purchase some from you so I can build low income housing."

"I'm afraid I can't sell it." Falcone cocked his head slightly so she continued. "It's part of my family's legacy and I'm not allowed to sell it. There's a clause in my ancestor's will. Only an Arkham can own the land."

"Hmm." Falcone gestured for the waiter to come over. "Why don't we order something to eat and perhaps we can discuss an arrangement?"

Their order was placed and even though she continued to sip at her wine, her glass was never empty. Carmine Falcone was more pleasant than she expected, chuckling at stories of her time in college. After they had eaten (and Emily was feeling more drunk than buzzed), he approached the subject again. "Perhaps a partnership? Something beneficial to us both."

"Like what?" Emily inquired.

"Allow me to build my apartments and instead of buying the land, I can rent it." Falcone had the waiter fill her glass once more, refilling his own as well. "You will still own the land and keep your legacy intact and I can provide homes for the people of Gotham."

"And if you end up delinquent on the rent?" Emily drank the last of her wine, placing her hand over the top of it when the waiter attempted to fill it again.

"Then you can claim the apartments for your own." He wrote down a number on a piece of paper and slid it over to her. "This is my offer."

The number was more than Emily expected but she tried to mask her surprise. Falcone saw it anyway and chuckled. This money was enough to pay off the hospital bills and keep Andrew alive. "Deal."

His phone rang and Falcone answered it. The conversation was short but he looked irritated by the end of it. "Please excuse me, Miss Arkham. There's some business that needs my attention."

"Of course, Don Falcone." Emily stood and held out her hand. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

"May I offer some advice, my dear?" He waited until she nodded. "Step up and be the legacy you are. Gotham will be better for it. I look forward to meeting again."

He disappeared with his body guard to goodness knows where. Her head buzzing with alcohol, Emily decided to catch a cab and go home. The last thing she needed was to make poor decisions while drunk. A shower quickly followed when she walked in the door and soon enough she was fast asleep in her bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Emily was sound asleep, ignoring the incessant beeping of her alarm clock when she started coughing. A deep, hacking cough, like she couldn't get enough air. Sitting up, her eyes burned thanks to the smoke that had filled up the apartment while she had been sleeping. She coughed again, covering her mouth and nose with her shirt as she tried to see a way out. Dark, acrid smoke had completely filled the small room, blocking out any light from the street lamps and the heat was causing sweat to fall in her eyes. Dropping to her knees, she tried to feel her way to the door but she had inhaled too much smoke while sleeping and it was taking its toll. She felt dizzy and her vision blurred moments before she fell to the floor, her head hitting the hard surface and causing her to black out.

The next thing she knew, sweet oxygen was filling her lungs and she gulped greedily, coughing the harsh smoke out of her chest. Sirens grated against her ears and she had to rub her eyes several times before they stopped watering. Her bakery and apartment were on fire, the flames licking at the building as it started to crumble.

"No!" She struggled to move toward the bakery, someone held her back.

"Em, calm down." Butch's voice made her still immediately. His arms were around her waist, keeping her from bolting to the fire. "There's nothing you can do."

Emily looked up at him and stammered, "Everything I have is in there."

"I know." His smile was sympathetic and he released her, leaving only one hand on the small of her back.

"What am I going to do?" Her voice cracked and she hated that she was crying but couldn't stop herself. Her life's savings were in that bakery, along with all of her worldly possessions and sentimental trinkets in her apartment. Everything was gone.

A fireman approached them once the fire was out, telling her that the fire was started because of faulty electrical wire. She nodded numbly as she took in the blackened ruins and turned back to Butch, grateful that he was still here.

He sighed and nodded toward the street. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Emily had her arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the brisk morning chill. Butch noticed and shrugged out of his jacket, offering it to her. She took it gratefully and pulled it on. The sleeves extended past her hands so she rolled up the fabric to her wrists as he gestured to a black car.

"My place. You can make some calls if you need to." He got into the driver's seat and unlocked the door so she could get in.

"Thanks, Butch. I really appreciate it."

Thankfully, the heat was on full blast, warming the chill from her bones in a matter of minutes. Butch didn't live far from the club. His apartment was cozy, with black leather sofas facing a large window overlooking Gotham River. The view was spectacular, especially with the stars gleaming in the night sky.

"Here." Butch extended a glass to her. A quick sniff told her it was whiskey, and not the cheap stuff, either. She sipped it politely, trying not to grimace as it burned her throat. "The phone's over there."

He left the living room to give her some privacy, opting to take his own drink to the bedroom and finish it there. Once the glass was drained, he changed into his pajamas and though he never usually wore it, he tugged on his bathrobe. It was itchy and uncomfortable but it felt appropriate to wear while Emily was here. By the time he rejoined her in the living room, she had fallen asleep on his sofa, his jacket wrapped tightly around her and her legs pulled up to her chest. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Butch retrieved a spare blanket from his room and draped it over her sleeping (and now snoring) form.

"Night." He clicked off the light.

-0-

The next morning, Butch was woken by the clanging of dishes in the kitchen. It took a few moments to remember the events of the night before but the smell of food drew him out of bed. Emily had her back turned to him, cooking at the stove, when he entered the kitchen. He watched her work for a minute, watched as her hips swayed to a song she was humming, how she expertly chopped some vegetables and dropped them into the pan on the stove. When she finally turned and noticed him, she smiled. "I made breakfast."

"I see that." He wasn't going to turn down food that he didn't have to make. Not that he did often but still. Taking his place at the counter top bar, he took a drink of coffee as Emily dropped an omelet on his plate. She didn't wait for him to bite into it before she started the clean up, packaging the extra vegetables into resealable containers and putting them in the refrigerator and loading the dishwasher. The omelet was the fluffiest, cheesy, delicious thing he had eaten for breakfast in a long while.

"I wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, so I went with an omelet." Emily leaned against the counter, her own coffee cup in hand. "Everybody likes omelets."

"It was great." Butch admitted with a smile.

"I wanted to say thanks for letting me stay here last night." She took a sip of her coffee. "I'll be out of your hair today."

"You go somewhere to go?" He turned his attention to the toast on his plate.

"I've got a little money that I can use to get a hotel room." She was surprisingly optimistic. "I'll figure it out from there."

Butch swallowed the rest of his coffee. "I've got an extra room going to waste. You can stay here until you get everything in shape."

"I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Forget about it, Em." He stood and rinsed his dishes, putting them in the sink. "I'm not sending you out with no game plan."

"I'll get everything sorted out as soon as I can." She promised. Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, you keep making food like that and I may never let you leave." He teased. The clock chimed, signaling that it was time to head to Fish's office. His work was never done. "You got plans for today?"

"I've got to meet with the insurance people, find some clothes and stuff, and then I have a shift at the club." She wiped the counter clean. "So I'll see you then?"

"Guess so."

She wasn't sure why, but Emily blushed deeply at his smile before he disappeared to get dressed. There was more to Fish's right hand man than it seemed.

-0-

Once she had procured clothes and taken a shower, Emily went to the hospital. She needed some sense of familiarity and Andrew was her rock. The room was empty of staff but Emily took her usual place next to his bed. She sat there silently, not wanting to open up to him and allow the overwhelming panic and fear to explode out. Her visit lasted until her shift at the nightclub and she stood to press a kiss to his forehead, her nose brushing against his hair. If she didn't know better, she'd swear she smelled smoke.

 **A/N: So, I've been out of town and busy with the holidays but here's a quick update for you all. I do hope you all enjoyed it and please review. I'll update as soon as I can. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Word of the Wayne murders spread quickly, capturing the headlines of all the morning papers. It was hard to believe that in just a matter of days since the murders, Emily had lost her home and her business and was currently staying with her boss' lieutenant. Fish had advised that she lose the wedding ring, said that she'd get better tips if she did, so Emily had safely deposited her wedding band in her purse, zipped carefully into the side pocket.

She was cleaning a glass with a rag when Fish's voice made her stand at attention. "Fetch Raoul for me, please."

Nodding once, Emily put the glass on the bar and went to find Raoul, a little afraid of the look in Fish's eye. Raoul looked more than a little afraid, trembling as he went to face his boss. She wasn't sure what was going on but she knew she didn't want to be in his shoes. Butch had a grim look on his face and Oswald followed Fish outside, umbrella at his side. Howls of pain echoed a few minutes later, causing Emily to flinch. She busied herself with side work, stocking everything she needed for that night, trying to drown out the noise.

"Tell Fish I'm here." A male voice said, allowing her an excuse to make Raoul's punishment stop for a moment.

"Of course. You are...?"

"Detective Bullock." He answered with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Emily hurried to the back alley to get her boss, wincing when an aluminum bat made contact with Raoul's face. "Ma'am, there's a Detective Bullock here to see you."

Fish offered the bat to Butch, who took it dutifully, before going inside. "Keep him warm."

"Yes ma'am." Butch answered.

Emily didn't know Raoul at all, she had only seen him in passing, but her heart ached to help him as blood ran down his face and he whimpered. She barely noticed the rain until it was no longer falling on her.

"You shouldn't be out here, Emily." Oswald said, concern in his voice as he held the umbrella over the two of them. "You'll catch pneumonia."

She nodded numbly, heading slowly for the door to the club, pausing when she reached it to glance behind her. Butch was watching her, as was Oswald, but she met Butch's gaze and held it for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes. Wrapping her arms around herself, Emily went inside and when Fish finally finished with Raoul, she couldn't bring herself to speak to Oswald. The night didn't pass quickly enough, and Emily cleaned the bar as fast as she could, hoping to avoid both Butch and Oswald. Even though she knew that nothing could be done for Raoul, she still found herself shocked by the brutality and the way no one spoke up for the poor man. In that moment, she made a decision.

"Are you all right?" Oswald took her by surprise as she got her coat, concern etched on his face. "You seem unwell."

"I'm fine." Emily muttered, buttoning her jacket quickly.

When she attempted to walk past Oswald, he grabbed her arm. "Please know that you can speak to me about anything."

"Everything okay?" Butch interrupted, causing Oswald to release her. His hands were in his pockets and his stance was relaxed but there was something in his tone that made Oswald stiffen.

"Of course, Mr. Gilzean. Everything is perfect." Oswald smiled at the taller gentleman.

"Ready to go, Em?"

Emily was quiet on the ride home and Butch didn't push her to talk, following her silently into the apartment. She changed into her pajamas and stayed in her room until the next morning and was gone before Butch woke up. A note told him that breakfast was waiting in the oven for him but there was no other trace of how long she was up. Today was a rare day off for him and he had no immediate plans for it. He finished breakfast and cleaned up the dishes before taking a shower. By the time he emerged, clean and in his usual suit, Emily had returned and had what looked like blue prints spread over the kitchen table.

"What ya got there?" Peeking over her shoulder, he said, "The Asylum?"

"It's my family's legacy." She replied without looking up.

"What are you doing?"

"There's tunnels and secret rooms all over the asylum. I'm trying to trace the ones I've been down before."

"What were you doing wandering around the asylum?" Butch's brow furrowed. "That building should be condemned and you should stay out of it. You could get hurt."

"Thanks for your concern." She glanced up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "But I have to go inside and find a journal that may not and probably doesn't exist."

"Why?"

Putting her pencil down and straightening, Emily said, "This is my legacy. My business is gone, my home is gone, and my husband may as well be gone. This is all I have left. I want to get the asylum up and ready for the purpose it was intended: holding and treating the criminally insane of Gotham."

"This is a massive job you're taking about." Butch moved next to her to study the blueprints. "And it's gonna piss off more people than you're prepared to deal with."

"Maybe Fish could get behind it. She'd be a good ally to have, right?" She looked up at him, waiting his response.

"Yeah, but a job like this-word's gonna get to Falcone, to Maroni. They're gonna think you're trying to take over part of their territory."

"It was never theirs. The entire Arkham district, all of the land, the buildings, everything, it all belongs to me."

There was a fire in her eyes that Butch admired, he always had a thing for girls who could hold their own. It was why he liked working for Fish so much, she didn't take anything from anyone and it seemed Emily was taking lessons from her. He put one palm on the small of her back and pulled her against his body, pressing his lips against hers in one smooth motion. Her lips moved against his before she pulled away, standing on the tips of her toes and her palms against his chest.

"I'm married." She said, breathlessly.

"You want me to stop?" He may be willing to shoot a man but he wouldn't force himself on anyone.

Emily opened her mouth to answer when his phone rang. Reluctantly, he released her so he could answer the call with a simple, "Yeah, boss?"

He watched Emily the entire time he was on the phone, his gaze making her shiver. Hanging up he said, "Be right there."

"Duty calls?" She licked her lips nervously.

"It would appear so." He smiled at her, gesturing to the blueprints on the table. "Stay out of trouble."

"I'll do my best."

Butch retrieved his gun, slipping it into the back of his pants then pulled on his jacket. "I'll see you around."

He left quickly because for the first time in a very long time, he was afraid. He was afraid that she would say no to him or worse-that she would say yes and end up like his first wife, slaughtered mercilessly in a mob war. When he got in his car, he sat for a moment, his mind going back unwillingly to the night he found her. Shaking his head violently, he sent the memories away and went to do his job. He'd face his demons another day.

 **A/N: So this won't exactly follow the plotline of the show but some things will remain. Like Oswald's 'death'. Anywhooooo, leave a review if you'd like. I love you guys. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

The Arkham inheritance was extensive. A massive fortune left to the keeper of the asylum (provided they were an Arkham), along with the ability to live in the mansion on the property if they so desired. The asylum itself needed a lot of work, parts of the building were falling down. The plumbing and electrical work was a nightmare but Emily felt a swell of pride in her chest as she stood in front of the building, smiling up at the ancient stonework. It may be a mess but it was her mess. The lawyers were tedious, making her sign paper after paper, and reiterating the legal ramifications should she try to demolish the buildings or sell the property.

The mansion wasn't livable either, but she'd worry about that later. The money she now had access to would give her enough manpower to start work on both the mansion and the asylum, meaning she could hopefully have a place to call her own soon. If Andrew woke up, he could join her here. Staffing the place would also prove difficult, but if she offered enough money...

Walking the halls of the asylum, Emily found herself standing taller and more sure of herself, as though this is what she was meant to do. The air was musty and cobwebs decorated every inch of wall while rats scurried past her, unused to this type of intrusion. The windows were barred and too high up for her to reach to allow fresh air in, so she'd have the workers handle it on Monday. Excited at the prospect of doing something to help Gotham, Emily went back to Butch's apartment to clean up and go to the club. Butch wasn't home when she got there and she still had a few hours before she had to work so she decided to indulge in a bubble bath. The tub was full and steaming in record time, and she sighed as she sank into the water, the bubbles covering her skin. Resting her head on the porcelain of the tub, Emily let the hot water work the ache out of her muscles and closed her eyes, not noticing the figure in the shadows.

-0-

"Where's the Callahan girl?" Fish asked one of her waiters, hands on her hips.

"She didn't show, boss."

"She better have a damn good reason." Fish glanced around at her clientele, a good number of men sitting at the bar waiting for the brunette that had become ever more popular. She was a business woman first but Fish would admit (even if only to herself) that Emily had grown on her. Even one of her favorites couldn't be allowed to do whatever they wished, whenever they wished so she'd think of a punishment for the brunette later.

By night's closing, Emily still hadn't shown up. Butch told himself that she was fine, that she was probably sitting at his apartment, pouring over the blueprints for the asylum. He wanted to believe that but as he headed home, he passed a blood smear on the pavement and his stomach dropped. There was nothing to prove that it belonged to Emily so he shook off the feeling and he went home. He half expected a plate of food to be waiting in the oven for him and was only slightly disappointed by the empty oven. Shaking off the concern, he poured himself a drink and downed it quickly, before deciding to take a shower. What he didn't expect was to find Emily on the floor, an angry indigo bruise circling her neck. His blood went cold as he dropped next to her, checking her wrist for a pulse, his breath escaping quickly when he felt a faint beat against his fingertips.

Her lips were blue and her skin almost iridescent, but she was alive. Butch draped a towel over her naked form and carried her to his bed, wrapping her in the comforter in an attempt to raise her body temperature. He had seen this before and knew that a hospital wouldn't do much for her. All he could do was wait until she woke up-if she woke up. In the meantime, he checked his apartment for signs of a break in or any clues as to indicate who would do this. This was twice that Emily almost died and it raised his suspicions. Fish might be able to help figure out the culprit but he didn't want anyone to know he was looking into it. He'd deal with this on his own.

-0-

Don Maroni glared at the man in front of him. "How hard is it to kill one girl?"

"I'm sorry, Don Maroni." He looked down at the ground, ashamed. "She took me by surprise. It won't happen again."

"I like you, Drew." Maroni smirked and patted the man's cheek with his palm. "You're a good worker; good man to have when it comes down to the wire."

"Thank you."

"Don't disappoint me again." The mob boss's expression was deadly and serious. "Kill the Arkham girl or you'll join her."

Andrew Callahan nodded once then turned on his heel, his mind churning with ways to kill his wife.

 **A/N: So, I've been dealing with family issues and haven't updated like I wanted to, but here's the next chapter. I do hope you all like it and please feel free to leave a review. I love you guys! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

_Andrew looked around his apartment nervously, wondering if he had really gotten rid of the man smell or if he was just used to it. Emily was coming over in a little while and it would be a special night for the both of them. She had been leery of him, especially at the beginning of their courtship. But once the first few months had passed, she trusted him implicitly. That was when his uncle, Salvatore Maroni, gave him an engagement ring to give to Emily in an attempt to solidify the Maroni claim over Gotham. The Maroni family on their own was a force to be reckoned with but combined with the Arkhams, they'd finally be able to overthrow the Falcones. Andrew clutched the ring box anxiously, his palm sweat dampening the crushed velvet. A knock on the door let him know it was time._

-0-

It took two days to get Emily to respond to him and Butch was almost ready to give up when she finally rolled over and made eye contact with him. A little more coaxing and she got out of bed, pulled on a robe and came into the kitchen to eat. Butch wasn't a great cook (he wasn't even a good cook) but the scrambled eggs he made were passable for breakfast. Emily poked at her plate with her fork before she finally put some eggs in her mouth. Butch pretended not to notice, eating his own food and reading the newspaper.

"Is there coffee?" Emily asked, her voice hoarse from days of being unused.

"Yeah." He gestured toward the counter with his fork. "Help yourself, Em."

The coffee made her feel more like herself and before long she was drinking a second cup. Her eyes fell on the asylum plans and she knew that she needed to get back on the job to get it open in time.

"You want to shower first?" Butch asked, pulling her back to reality.

"Um, no. You can go ahead. I think I'm going to head to the asylum today." She tapped the rim of her coffee mug with her finger as she leaned against the counter and feigned a smile. "Try to get back on schedule. I'll shower when I get back."

He got up to put his dishes in the sink, and brushed off the crumbs off his palms before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. Neither one of them wanted to pull away but Butch knew he had to the moment his lips touched hers. She was his guest and she was married but then again, they had kissed once before-

His worries were shoved away when she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, moving her lips against his. That was all the answer he needed, putting one hand on the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her flush against him. She whimpered softly as her arms went around his neck, effectively draping her over him. A long few minutes later, they pulled apart, breathing hard.

"I, uh, I guess I should get going." Emily said, adjusting the robe tighter around her body. It wasn't that big of a deal seeing as how he had already seen her naked when he picked her up off the bathroom floor but it was more of a comfort thing. "I'll see you later?"

"Em, wait." Butch called after her as she hurried into the guest bedroom. She paused and turned back to face him, her cheeks flushed and her lips still swollen from their kiss, and it was everything he could do to keep himself from picking her up and carrying her to the nearest flat surface. "Never mind. I'll see you later."

She smiled at him, a genuine smile, and escaped to her room, closing the door behind her. She nibbled on her lip as she replayed their kiss, her grin widening. Picking out a casual enough outfit, her euphoria didn't last long when her gaze fell on her wedding ring and she felt a pang of guilt. Technically she was still married but wouldn't Andrew want her to be happy? Or would he want her to wait for him?

Luckily, the asylum would take all of her attention while she rummaged through the mansion, trying to catalog all of the belongings and make it livable. But she still found herself going back to the kiss in the kitchen and it was like the last few days hadn't happened. Until she caught a reflection of herself and saw the bruising around her neck. Emily hadn't seen who attacked her, honestly she didn't know how she managed to get free. She remembered feeling something around her neck and then waking up in Butch's bed, with him watching over her. She knew Butch wasn't innocent, that he could be as dangerous as they come, but she felt like he'd never hurt her. She loved that she felt safe with him around, that she could move closer when others seemed to slink away from Fish Mooney's lieutenant. It was then that she made her decision: she had waited for two years for Andrew with no change in his condition and now she was done waiting. She'd see where this attraction with Butch took her and deal with the consequences later.

Swearing as she ran into a doorway, Emily had to turn her attention back to the task at hand before she gave herself a concussion.

-0-

"Now, listen," Butch picked up the sniveling man and shoved him against the wall. "I'm gonna ask one more time and I want the truth or I'm gonna have to get angry."

The punk had already swallowed two of his teeth due to his lies and was working on a third but he nodded, blood dripping in his eyes.

"Who's after the Callahan girl?"

"I d-don't know!" He stammered, holding his hands in front of his face defensively. "I just wash the dishes at Bamonte's. I don't know nothin' about no girl."

"I'd like to believe you. But you see, I'm all out of patience today." Butch sighed as he pulled out his gun and shot the man. Putting his gun away and wiping blood off his hands with a handkerchief, he headed out of the alley, ready to go home to Emily. He hadn't done a very good job of protecting her but he'd do much better from now on. Because married or not, she was his.

 **A/N: Ta da! New chapter and a bit more fluff-ish type stuff for you all. I do hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. A huge thanks to my reviewers, followers, favoriters, and readers. You guys are the best. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Emily looked around Butch's apartment with a smile. Carefully moving a fork to its proper position on the table, the candle light gleaming on the silver, she made sure everything was perfect. Candles were placed around the room, dimly lighting the room. She had started dinner as soon as she had gotten home and now the roast was almost done and the vegetables were perfect. All she needed was to pour the wine and everything would be ready. Thankfully she had showered while dinner was cooking so her skin was soft and lavender scented. Her hair had dried in soft waves around her shoulders and she had intended to wear one of Butch's shirts but decided against it, thinking it might send the wrong message and choosing to wear a simple yellow sundress instead.

Footsteps stopped in front of the door and she heard keys jangle in the lock. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as Butch entered the apartment. Her smile faltered slightly when she noted the exhaustion on his face.

"What's all this?" Butch asked, gesturing to the candles and the soft music drifting through the room.

"I made dinner." Emily's cheeks started to burn furiously and she felt ridiculous. What on Earth had she possibly been thinking? "W-would you like to sit down?"

Butch chuckled softly as he dropped his keys on the coffee table and moved to take his seat at the table. Emily served dinner for them both and hoped he wouldn't notice her shaking hands as she tried to pour the wine. When her trembling caused her to spill a few drops on the white tablecloth, she said, "Oh, no. Butch, I'm so sorry."

He took the wine bottle from her and grabbed her hand, placing a gentle kiss against the pulse at her wrist, silencing her immediately. "It's fine, Emily. Sit down."

She reclaimed her chair and took a sip of her wine, hoping it would calm her nerves. Butch watched her fondly as he started eating. The pair said nothing as they ate, allowing the music to fill the silence. It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that they spoke.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Emily asked Butch as he stood.

"Not tonight." Butch replied, checking his gun before opening the door. A brown haired man stood on the other side. "Can I help you?" 

"I'm looking for Emily Callahan. I was told she'd be here."

Emily felt her heart stop as she recognized the voice.

"Who are you?" Butch asked, not opening the door.

"Andrew?" Emily put her napkin on the table and walked to the door. Butch moved out of the way so she could talk to the man.

"Emily!" Andrew grinned widely and picked Emily up in his arms, spinning her around several times as he hugged her tightly. When he finally put her down, he pressed his lips against hers eagerly. "I was so worried when I heard about the bakery."

"I don't understand. If you're awake, why didn't the hospital call me?" She questioned but not moving from his embrace.

"I don't know but I'm glad I found you." Andrew finally released her and turned his attention to Butch. "I'm Andrew Callahan."

"How rude of me," Emily hesitated. "Andrew, this is Butch Gilzean. He saved me when the bakery caught fire. Butch, this is Andrew. My husband."

"Pleasure." Butch said, unenthusiastically.

"I owe you everything for keeping my Emily safe." Andrew pressed a kiss to Emily's cheek, either ignoring her discomfort or completely oblivious to it. "If there's anything I could do for you, just let me know."

"Sure thing." Butch replied. He kept his eyes on Emily, the feeling in his stomach not wanting to let her leave with Andrew.

"Honey, I have an apartment set up for us."

"She's got a place to stay." Butch interrupted.

"We couldn't impose on you any longer, Butch." Emily brushed her hair off her shoulders. "I was only going to stay until I figured something else out and now I have. Andrew, if you don't mind waiting, I'll get my things."

"Of course, sweetheart." Andrew smiled at her.

Emily disappeared into the guest room and Butch followed, closing the door behind them. "Don't go."

"I have to, Butch. He's my husband." Digging her suitcase from under the bed, she tossed it on the bed and started to retrieve her clothes from the dresser.

"I got a bad feeling about this, Em." Butch tried to reason with her. "All I'm askin' is that you stay here tonight."

"I can't do that to Andrew." She shoved a shirt into the suitcase. "I can't stay here with my husband when..."

"When what?"

She cleared her throat and refused to look at him. "I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I have feelings for you." Emily stammered. "I can't stay here with you when my husband is here too. I can't do that to Andrew."

"So I'll kick Andrew out." Butch suggested and Emily smiled a small, sad smile. He crossed the small distance between them and put his palm against her cheek, his thumb brushing the skin gently. "Stay just one more night. It'll make me sleep better knowin' that you're safe."

"What about Andrew?"

Butch sighed. "He can stay."

Emily glanced at the door to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted before standing up on her toes and pressing her lips against his for a moment. "Thank you, Butch."

"Yeah, yeah." Butch mumbled. "Get some sleep and I'm close by if you need me."

 **A/N: So, my apologies about being gone for so long. Honestly, my muse for this story disappeared and refused to help so I had to force myself to be inspired and continue. It's a short chapter, I know but hopefully it'll tide you all over until the next one comes. Please feel free to review and thank you to those of you who read/follow/favorite/review. You guys rock.**


	10. Chapter 10

"What's on the agenda for today, sweetheart?" Andrew grinned over his coffee cup at Emily while she took a sip of her own coffee. "Anything exciting?"

"I have to work on the renovations to the asylum today. It's important that we stay on track and then I have a shift at the club tonight."

"Can't you beg off?" He asked, standing up out of his chair and moving behind her. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her ear playfully. "Tell Fish that your husband missed you."

Something in his actions made Emily's skin crawl and she shrugged out of his grip as she stood. "I can't. Maybe we could spend some time together after the weekend."

Andrew watched as his wife walked away from him, disappearing from the shabby studio apartment he had managed to lease in the last twenty four hours. He'd have Uncle Sal pay a visit to Butch Gilzean and handle him. He could hardly seduce his wife so he could kill her if her affections were otherwise occupied. She knew something, Andrew thought to himself. That's why she was working so hard to stay away from him.

-0-

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was off about Andrew; she just knew it. The way his voice grated on her ears and the way his touch made her feel uneasy, he was up to something. Call it the Arkham intuition or whatever, but she didn't feel safe around him. He had been home for a week and she had only been alone with him when it was absolutely necessary. Lost in her thoughts, and not paying attention, Emily squealed and swatted at the cobwebs that she had accidentally walked into, flailing her arms wildly around her. She was in one of the secret passage ways in the asylum, doing her best to clean them so they would be usable by herself when the asylum finally opened again. There had been a bit of an internal debate about whether or not to inform the staff about the tunnels but in the end she decided against it to eliminate the possibility of a patient using them to escape. Doing her best to ignore the feeling that she was being watched, she continued through the tunnel, picking up her pace in an attempt to get rid of the nervous feeling. Then, something slammed into her, knocking her against the wall roughly and shoving itself down her throat at the same time. She couldn't breathe for a long moment, while her brain wrestled with itself and then she coughed harshly, clearing her mind. Straightening her shoulders, Emily ran down the passageway until she ended up outside and took a long, deep breath. She went home and laid down to rest, exhausted from spending so much time at the asylum. Her nap was anything but restful and too soon it was time to get to Fish's club.

As she took her place behind the bar, Emily noted that it had been a while since she had last seen Oswald. Before she had a chance to ask about him, however, Butch approached the bar. "How you doin', Em?"

"Fine." She smiled at him halfheartedly, still out of sorts from her ordeal at the asylum.

Taken aback by the glazed look in her eyes, and the dullness of her movements, Butch asked, "Are you sure?" 

"Hm?" Emily replied a moment later, having drawn herself out of her thoughts. "Yeah. I'm fine, Mr. Gilzean. Can I get you anything?" 

"Nah. I'm good." He said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He had duties but he made certain to keep an eye on the bartender through the night, unsure of what was going on with her but wanting to keep her safe. When the night finally came to a close, he offered her a ride home.

"No, thank you, Mr. Gilzean. I'll be fine."

With that response, she left the club and onto the streets of Gotham. Butch shook his head, muttering to himself while he went to do his job. Emily walked slowly, feeling like her head was full of cotton as she stumbled down the street. When she heard someone behind her, she turned around sluggishly but stopped when she felt something hard and metal against her neck. "Don't turn around and give me your purse."

She did as she was told, knowing she should be terrified but finding it difficult to muster up the emotion. Her obedience was useless, however, because a moment later, there was a noise like cannon fire then blinding pain and then nothing. Emily hit the pavement hard as the bullet tore through her head.

-0-

" _Wake up."_

 _Emily's eyes fluttered open as she groaned at the ache in her head. She was laying in the street of Gotham, the noise of the city oblivious to her demise. In the distance, she could hear sirens, maybe an ambulance coming to her rescue? Finally her eyes focused on the person in front of her; a woman in a white dress covered in blood stains._

" _Where am I?"_

" _You're with us." The woman answered, extending a hand to Emily and helping her to her feet._

" _Us?"_

" _The ghosts and victims of the asylum." The woman placed her fingers against the head wound and Emily felt it burn and itch as though something was burrowing inside her head._

" _I-I don't understand. What happened to me?"_

" _You were murdered." She clarified, her fingertips dancing over the Arkham descendant's features. "And we've come to save you. We can heal you, if you'll accept our terms."_

" _How?"_

" _The curse is on you, Emily Arkham, and we will claim what is our right." The woman giggled manically then managed to suppress it a moment later. "Do you accept our terms?"_

" _I don't know." Emily stammered nervously. At the edge of her mind, she could hear Butch find her body, she could hear his mourning. Something wet fell on her face and as she touched her fingers to her cheek, she realized it was his tears. She felt his strength around her as he held her corpse in his arms, felt him hold her close to himself, unashamed of who might see his weakness and her choice was made._

" _Do you accept our terms?"_

" _Yes."_

 _She started to giggle again, speaking around the laughter erupting from her mouth. "This is going to be so much fun."_

-0-

Butch held Emily as he felt himself shatter. He had found her body on the pavement, a bullet hole marring her perfect face, blood dripping down her face like a macabre mask. Hot tears flooded his eyes, pouring over onto her face, leaving small trails in the sticky blood. Furious that he wasn't able to protect her, he swore to himself that he would get revenge on whoever took his Emily away from him.

"Butch?" Her voice was soft and unsure and he was positive he had lost his mind until he felt her fingers curl in the fabric of his suit.

"You're alive?" He asked in disbelief.

"I guess so." She rubbed her head, expecting to feel the wound but felt nothing.

"How?"

"I don't know but-" He cut her off by kissing her and she welcomed it gladly. When they finally pulled apart, Emily reminded him, "I'm married."

"I don't care." Butch replied. "We should get you to a hospital."

"I think I'm okay." She said as she tried to stand. Her knees buckled and Butch caught her as she stumbled. "But I could use some sleep."

"I'll take you back to my apartment." She was already being led back to his car.

"Butch, I should go home to Andrew." Her words were empty; she didn't want to go home to her husband.

"Listen, somebody's tried to kill you three times now and I think it's got somethin' to do with the asylum. Now, until I know you're safe, you're staying with me." He held the car door open for her firmly but softened his expression. "Please, Em."

She slid into the seat silently and Butch closed the door, then crossed around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat. The ride back to his apartment was quiet and once Emily was safely deposited into her room, Butch let himself breathe. She was alive and safe. Pouring himself a drink, he downed it quickly then poured himself another. Drinking the second one just as quickly as the first, he put the glass down and dressed for bed; sliding under the comforter shortly after. The combination of the emotional stress and the whiskey made sleep come quickly and he only stirred when he felt someone next to him and tugging on his arm. His eyes shot open but he relaxed when he saw it was Emily. Draping his arm around her waist, he fell back asleep.

 **A/N: So, I rewrote this chapter because, as thenerdinyourclass pointed out, it didn't mesh well with the rest of the story. A huge thanks to you the nerdinyourclass for helping make my writing better! I do hope you enjoy the revisions I made.**

 **To all the rest of my readers/followers/favoriters/reviewers, please feel free to leave reviews. They feed my muse. :)**


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